


Hardware

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 08:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22353058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Connor questions his android detective.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Kudos: 89





	Hardware

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The car turns off outside the house, late enough in the day that it almost plunges them into darkness, except there’s plenty of stars out and flashlights from the officers already on the scene. The patrol car that first witnessed the incident is pulled around the corner ahead of them, lights still flashing but siren off. Hank puts his hand on the handle of the door, ready to push out and into the rain, off to join the investigation, except usually Connor leaves first, and this time Connor just... isn’t.

He’s sitting in the driver’s seat, casting little looks at Hank, then hurriedly turning back to the empty windshield. Totally conspicuous. His pale cheeks are an unusual light pink—a telltale clue. The water drizzling down the glass isn’t all that fascinating, but he stares blankly at it anyway. Hank has to be the one to ask, “What’s the hold up?”

Connor still keeps his gaze focused ahead rather than on Hank. He opens and closes his mouth twice before asking, “Why’d they make you so attractive?”

Hank grunts, “ _Excuse me_?”

“It doesn’t make any sense. I understand you’re a prototype, but you’re supposed to be a detective model, so there was no reason to make you so...” Connor gestures with his hand, clearly searching for the right word, and ends up on, “handsome.”

Maybe something in Hank flickers strangely at that. Maybe he’s _flattered_. But that would be an emotion, and he’s perfectly aware he only simulates those—just follows subroutines and algorithms in the interest of ‘fitting in’ with the human cops around him. Keeping them comfortable facilitates his work. But he mutters, “Are you kidding me? Do I look like a goddamn Traci to you?” Connor’s lips quirk up in an adorable grin at Hank’s typical cantankerous reaction. “They specifically _didn’t_ make me hot so I wouldn’t be distracting my colleagues.”

Connor shrugs and finally looks at him, quipping, “Well, they fucked up.”

Hank stares at him. Sometimes Hank wonders why the department gave him such a distractingly cute human to work with. Connor’s the one that looks straight out of Club Eden with his incredibly soft pink lips and gorgeous brown eyes and that silky brown hair that desperately needs Hank’s fingers running through it. He’s the straight-laced young thing that seems to be just waiting for someone to yank his tie right off and show him how to properly unwind. The only difference between him and the picture-perfect androids at the station is, apparently, a thing for washed up older guys.

Lucky Hank. He files that away for future reference and pushes out of the car, pretending not to notice the rising software instability in the corner of his eye.


End file.
